


Ain't No Rule

by SociallyUnacceptableOrb



Category: Hoshi no Kaabii | Kirby: Right Back at Ya!
Genre: 4Kids Dub, Alternate Universe - Future, F/M, Nature Versus Nurture, Sometimes You Gotta Bookslap A Hoe, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Vague Hints of Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-12 04:18:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15331569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SociallyUnacceptableOrb/pseuds/SociallyUnacceptableOrb
Summary: Sir Ebrum just wants Knuckle Joe to be a proper gentleman. Knuckle Joe would rather drop dead.





	Ain't No Rule

**Author's Note:**

> You know who else I love? Sir Ebrum! You know who else barely gets any fic? Sir Ebrum. This is honestly just an excuse to write about him, but here's also some teen Kirbys.

"So, how do you feel, Joseph?"

"Like a tick about to pop, that's how."

With the party only 12 hours away, Sir Ebrum was working double-time to turn Knuckle Joe into a genteel and proper Lordship. It was supposed to be a week from now, but King Dedede had insisted that it be sooner due to an apparent meteor shower occurring tonight. He’d also insisted that they get a ‘ _certain exotic flair’_ to try and attract potential trade partners, and what better way than to have a foreign royal already amongst their ranks?

Knuckle Joe had been roped into the situation kicking and screaming, due to Dedede refusing to let Escargoon have any ruling power again, thinking Meta Knight would scare them off, and claiming Kirby was ‘too pink and lumpy’ to pass as royalty. Tiff felt horrible trying to con unsuspecting monarchs for the sake of a quick buck, but she couldn’t help but giggle with Kirby at seeing Joe dressed up to the nines.

“Y’know, I thought it was the girls that had to be dressed up like this.” he complained, and then yelped as a pin jabbed into his lower back. “Hey, watch it!”

“I’m trying, Joseph!” Sir Ebrum responded defensively. “Have you any idea how difficult it is creating a suit for someone of your size?” While he was roughly the same weight and height as Sir Ebrum, his broad shoulders and long legs were outright alien to Cappytown. Knuckle Joe rolled his eyes as Sir Ebrum continued.

“Now, remember. You are a Marquess. You are only to be referred to as ‘Your Lordship’ or ‘Lord Joseph’ by both superiors and inferiors. You must keep your head up at all times, your back erect, your gaze never wandering downwards.” He finished the final stitch and removed the pin. “Ah. There we go. Perfect!”

“Mister Ebrum, I can’t feel my elbows anymore.” Knuckle Joe flatly responded. He certainly looked the part of a royal, with his unruly blonde hair tied back with a ribbon and his three-piece suit, if not for the fact that he seemed to be stuck with his arms out to his sides. Sir Ebrum attempted to shove them down, but they went only halfway.

“We’ll fix that later.” Sir Ebrum said. “Anyways, I want you to imagine yourself at the ball, the music in full swing, the lights all aglow.” He motioned over to Tiff and Kirby on the couch. “You see the Countess of Candy Canyon, from Lily Star. You go up to her, introduce yourself with a bow, and gently kiss her hand.” He mimed the gesture. “ _Enchante,_ my sweet.”

“Ah, yes. You make a fine proposal, my good sir.” Knuckle Joe said, mimicking his voice. “However, I would be remiss were I not to offer a quick rebuttal.” He slammed his arms down to his sides, and the sound of rapidly tearing fabric could be heard as a button went flying from the jacket. Tiff screamed in terror and ducked down with Kirby as it ping-ponged around the room and landed on the dining table, still spinning.

“I think you dropped something,” said Kirby, peering over the couch.

“Well, okay…” Sir Ebrum began. “Let’s try that again, shall we?”

“Newsflash, wise guy! This whole thing is stupid!” He tore his hair out of the ponytail, and it immediately puffed back up to its usual volume. He blew a chunk of hair out of his eyes and used the hair ribbon to make a bandanna, tying it out of the way. With a huff, he plopped down on the couch, tossed off the suit jacket, and put his feet up on the coffee table. “Why don’t ya try and sucker your own kid into this? You ain’t gonna get nothing else out of me!”

If Knuckle Joe’s flippant attitude and lack of manners didn’t kill Sir Ebrum, then his terrible grammar and diction would. The Cappy deeply sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he grumbled nonsense to himself. Tiff, not wanting to see her father get a migraine for the third time today, offered up a simpler solution.

“How about I teach him, dad?” she offered, getting up from the couch and gently leading him towards the door. “Besides, you’ve got to get the catering from Kawasaki’s, don’t you?” She opened the door and gently pushed him outside. “I can handle him.”

“I’ll come with you!” Kirby said, bouncing off the couch and running after Sir Ebrum. “Promise I won’t eat half of it this time.” he said with a wink. He waved goodbye to Tiff and closed the door. Inhaling and exhaling deeply, she turned back to Joe and clasped her hands together.

“Okay, let’s attack this a different way.” she said, as she walked back over to the couch and sat down. She picked up the book and flipped to the first chapter. “Proper posture is key to proper etiquette. No slouching, no leaning, no crouching, and no extremities on the table.” With that last line, Tiff shoved Knuckle Joe’s feet off the coffee table.

“Got it.” He put his hands behind his head and watched as she flipped through the pages. “Why are you helping out the king, anyways? Thought you always hated that butterball.”

“I’m not doing this for Dedede. I’m doing it for my father.” Tiff said. “And for you. Proper manners don’t just help in formal events, they apply to the rest of your life, too.”

“Whatever, whatever,” he said, rubbing his nose. “Just don’t try to turn me into a fun-sucker.”

Tiff got mad at that last crack. “Being courteous and following rules doesn’t turn you into a fun-sucker! Where’d you ever get an idea like that?!”

“Watching you.”

Tiff said nothing as she bookmarked her page, closed the book, smacked Knuckle Joe upside the head with it, and then reopened it, resuming her reading as if nothing happened.

“Okay,” Joe said, rubbing the side of his face. “I deserved that.”

* * *

There weren’t many people in the restaurant, but Kawasaki was nearly running himself ragged trying to finish Dedede’s big order. The patrons were wondering how much longer he could go without accidentally setting himself on fire or shoving his hand into a boiling pot of water. Even when Sir Ebrum and Kirby entered, he was far too busy to greet them, but he’d left a bowl of ramen on the counter for the puff.

“Hello, Kawasaki,” Sir Ebrum said as tried to lighten the mood. “It’s always nice to have a little bit of a challenge once in a while, eh?”

“Uh-huh! Yup! Really great! Super good! Left some chowder on the counter for you, Kirby! Dig in! I sure do love a challenge!” Kawasaki related this as he darted around the kitchen, stirring pots, and making sure that the food wasn’t burning. Kirby grinned and grabbed a pair of chopsticks from the bar as Sir Ebrum sighed.

“Kawasaki, may I ask you a question? It’s a terribly personal one, though.”

“Yup, got all the time in the world!” Kawasaki yelled back as he yanked some steaming hot pans from the oven.

“Alright, so…” Sir Ebrum swallowed his pride. “Let’s say that there is a young boy that isn’t your son, but around your son’s age. And-and the two of you aren’t related in the slightest, but you can’t help but feel fatherly towards him. So, you take it upon yourself to raise him a bit, and it’s all jolly fine and dandy. You understand so far, don’t you?”

With all of the food fully cooked, Kawasaki was working double-time to get it packed. While still rapidly wrapping a box, he furiously nodded and said, “Sure do!”

“Good! So, a few years pass without the boy showing up, and when you’re reunited, you find that he hasn’t changed a day since you’ve last seen him. Which is good and bad at the same time! So, my question is this.” Sir Ebrum took a deep breath. “Am I so wrong to think that Joe- that the boy-!” He’d said that last part louder than he should have, and he looked around nervously before resuming. “Should I still try and raise him the way I feel is right?”

“You know what my father used to say to me, on cold autumn nights like this?” Kawasaki asked. “He always pulled me aside, looked me in the eyes, and said, ‘Son, I’m impressed by your perseverance, but you have to let it go. You just can’t make spaghetti on a grill.’ But, he’ll come around eventually. Barbeque spaghetti never dies!”

Evidently, the size of the order had taken a toll on the poor chef. “Kirby, I think we’ve lost Kawasaki.”

The telltale screech of King Dedede’s limo sounded outside, and moments later, the king and his underling walked in. An entourage of Waddle Dees followed suit, with dusters and brooms in hand as they quickly darted around the restaurant, cleaning off tables and sweeping the floors without a care for anybody that was actually eating there. Escargoon plopped down at the bar next to Kirby as his majesty confidently strutted around the front.

“Even if they ain’t eatin’ here, we still gotta make sure everything’s ship-shape! And after this, we’re headin’ to the bookshop, so don’t get no crumbs mixed up when you’re fixin’ that up, too!” He turned on his heel and marched towards Sir Ebrum. “And how’s my diplomat goin’ along? That boy better be reciting poetry and smoochin’ hands before sundown, or y’all failed me!”

“Hate to say this, but I feel like that knucklehead’s a lost cause.” Escargoon whispered to Kirby.

“Then don’t.” Kirby chirped back, through a mouthful of noodles. Sir Ebrum was starting to get panicked, which wasn’t helped by the chef taking his sweet time packing up his order. Though ordinarily he’d perish the thought, the only other person in the room with any sort of decorum was Escargoon. He took a deep breath and called over to him.

“Doctor Escargoon,” he started. “Erm, how long do you assume it would take for a wayward child to learn to become gentlemanly?”

“Probably about the same time that Kirby learned how to use utensils.” He responded, watching the puff suck down the rest of the broth. “Ooh. Maybe a little longer, then.”

“Order up!” Kawasaki yelled.

Sir Ebrum turned back to the counter and saw 20 individually wrapped boxes of food sitting atop it, and Kawasaki completely blacked out, deep in well-deserved slumber. “Oh, deary.” He could feel another migraine coming on. “Kirby, old boy! I’m going to need your help with these.”

“Coming!” Kirby hopped out of his chair and bounded over to the counter, picking up nearly all of them and leaving the last few for Sir Ebrum. “Do you think Dedede and Escargoon could help us out with this, too?”

“Kirby, it’s always a marvel to hear you say things like that.” He grunted as he picked up the boxes and made his way towards the door. “Considering you’ve been living here this long, you should know better.”

Escargoon and Dedede chortled as they watched Sir Ebrum struggle with his stack of boxes, and Dedede stuck his foot out to try and trip Kirby. But the little puff managed to recover, even with the stack in his paws swaying a bit too far to the right. Kirby and Ebrum loaded the boxes into the car, buckled up, and headed back to the castle. It was only then that the other shoe dropped.

“Wait. We haven’t got a car.” Sir Ebrum said, and Kirby looked down. He saw the king’s face imprinted on the keys.

“Huh,” Kirby said, still driving forward. “Maybe they won’t notice it’s gone.”

* * *

“Now, what have we learned?” Tiff asked Knuckle Joe, circling him slowly as he stood at attention.

“That the proper technique for bowin’ to somebody above ya is to lower your head 40 degrees, go totally stiff, and don’t look him in the eye.” Knuckle Joe demonstrated, and Tiff golf clapped.

“And what else?” she asked, nodding in encouragement.

“The gals, er, the ladies come first. Always gotta pull out their seats for ‘em, offer the first drink or tiny sandwiches, yadda, yadda.”

“Good!” Tiff walked around to his other side. “And most importantly, when someone is discussing political affairs of their country with you, what is the best, least confrontational, catch-all response?”

Knuckle Joe proceeded to clasp his hands and press them against his cheek, exaggeratedly batted his eyelashes and trilled in a high-pitched feminine tone, “How interesting!” He popped his foot for good measure and stuck his tongue out with a wink at Tiff.

She rolled her eyes. “It’ll do.”

“So, what’s next, Teach?” Knuckle Joe said in his normal voice, putting his hands down and relaxing his stance. Tiff hummed as she looked at the clock. Her father and Kirby would be back any minute, and she really wanted to blow them away. Well, mostly her father; she couldn’t imagine Kirby genuinely cared about any of this.

“The Waltz. A sophisticated dance brought down through centuries of practice and tradition. It’s a lot more complicated than it looks.” She walked over to the record player, dusted off the vinyl, and put it on. “Of course, you’ve got to be the one to lead.”

“Hey, I know what a waltz is. You step around a bit, you spin around a bit, and there you go!” He took Tiff’s hand and placed it on his shoulder. “Kinda wonder how nobody barfs with all that twirling.”

“That’s probably why the portions are so small.” Tiff joked as she moved joe’s hand to her waist. “And one, two, thr-!”

Knuckle Joe’s foot came down hard on Tiff’s. She screamed and nearly lost her balance, smacking herself up against him to keep from falling over.

“Oh, jeez.” Joe said. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Tiff whimpered. “Just-just keep going.” But as the tempo of the music seemed to slow to a crawl, Knuckle Joe’s footwork only seemed to worsen, much to his annoyance. Tiff’s eyes darting over to the clock every so often wasn’t helping him either, and it wasn’t long before the two were practically shooting each other death glares.

The ticking of the clock was becoming deafening to Tiff. “Twirl me like a man, Knuckle Joe!”

“Oh-ho, I’ll twirl ya!” Their mutual frustration reached a head when Knuckle Joe spun directly into a bookshelf, bringing it and its contents crashing down on the two dance partners. One book was launched out from its place and slammed the needle on the record, shattering it and sending the room into an abrupt, tense silence.

“For crying out loud!” Tiff yelled, rubbing her bruised arm as she dragged herself from underneath the wreckage. “How are you supposed to learn anything if you won’t pay attention to anything? Why won’t you just listen to me?”

“I ain’t an idiot, okay?!” Knuckle Joe yelled, knocking books and splintered wood aside and he rose up. Tiff gasped in fear and struggled up to a kneeling position. “I mean, I’m not stupid! It’s not like all I ever think about is fighting, or, or…” Tears started leaking out of his eyes, and he immediately tried to rub them away. “So, what if I don’t know anything about dukes and duchesses, or what fork to use, I just…”

Tiff realized her mistake and cupped Knuckle Joe’s face. “Hey. It’s alright. I was pushing you way too hard. I guess I got too wrapped up in impressing my dad that I forgot about how you felt.” She wiped a tear from his cheek. “And you’re not an idiot, Joe. You’re just unfamiliar with all of this. We can always get someone else in your place if you really don’t want to do this.”

“You kidding?” he sniffed. “You’ve already drilled all this into my brain, when else am I ever gonna use it again?” Tiff giggled and punched him in the arm. Joe was about to return the action but reconsidered and fluffed her hair instead with a chuckle. “But, yeah. Let’s just tone it down a little bit.”

“Alright. How about I lead this time?”

* * *

“Need a hand, dad?”

The courtyard had been decked out in streamers and lights more suitable for a birthday party than a royal summit, but it looked fancy enough to trick the less than cultured. Tuff had been precariously dangling from the top rung of a ladder, adjusting a flower arrangement above an arch when he saw his father and Kirby walk in.

“Darling, stay up there!” called Lady Like, adjusting the placemats on a table. “I can help your father myself! You just come down when you’re ready to.” Much to her chagrin, Tuff swung from the floral arrangement, did a somersault in midair, and landed on the ground before the two. Kirby stared in awe as Lady Like rushed over.

“Don’t do that!” she scolded, but Tuff just pulled down his goggles and shrugged.

“I was ready to come down,” he said, and stood on his tiptoes to grab some boxes from the top of Kirby’s stack. “Besides, Meta Knight taught me that trick a month ago, and I’ve been dying to use it!”

“Oh, that Meta Knight!” Lady Like huffed, following suit as she lightened Kirby’s load. She shook her head and turned to Ebrum. “Honestly, this little celebration of His Majesty’s has been driving everybody up the walls! Tuff’s training was postponed for preparations, and he’s been rushing up and down the halls looking for something to do ever since!”

“Well, that makes two rambunctious boys I’ve got to worry about, then,” Sir Ebrum sighed. “Kirby’s my last hope.”

The aforementioned puffball, despite having less to carry, was quickly losing his previous balance of boxes, and was starting to fall behind the group as they made their way through the halls. One box precariously dangled halfway from the top, and Kirby quickly stepped backwards to try and reposition it, which only weakened the balance. With a quick flourish and the mysterious twang of a Spanish guitar, his troubles were alleviated.

“Hi, Meta Knight!” Kirby squeaked. “What brings you here?”

“It has been said quick hands make light work,” Meta Knight said, carrying a stack that was as tall as he. “Come. We mustn’t keep them waiting.”

Sir Ebrum could hear that soft piano music was coming from the room, and he smiled in pride. “I knew I could count on Tiff. She’d already teaching him how to waltz.” Tuff laughed at the mental image and nudged past Lady Like to get a better look. Sir Ebrum slowly opened the door, both careful not to drop any of the order, and curious to see how things were progressing.

Joe and Tiff were dancing, alright, but they weren’t any good at it. Neither of them seemed to mind, however, as her missteps and his wobbly turns synced in time to the music. As the music stopped, the two broke apart from each other gracefully, Tiff curtsying gently and Knuckle Joe bowing. Whether it was spur of the moment or an overenthusiastic ‘thank-you’, Tiff suddenly got on her tiptoes, pulled Joe forward by his shoulders, and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

“Tiffany!” he gasped, dropping the boxes.

“Dad!” Tiff screamed, pulling away from the kiss and shoving Knuckle Joe to the floor. “And Meta Knight! And Mom! And Tuff! Wow, gang’s all here, huh?” Her face turned bright red. “Did, um, did Kawasaki have everything ready?”

“Hey! What’s the big idea?” he asked, pulling himself up, and then his eyes darted over to the door. “Oh! Hey, Meta Knight. What’s new?” His voice noticeably cracked as his face and ear tips also flushed.

“I do not recall anything like that being in my etiquette lessons.” Meta Knight said as he tilted his head to the side, still in a state of shock. Kirby, still oblivious to everything bounded down the hallway to the open door.

“I almost dropped one! It’s okay, it was just the meatloaf! He always makes it extra well done.” Kirby put down the boxes, and then looked around the room at the four shocked helpers and the two mortified teens. “Oh my gosh! What happened to the bookshelf?”

**Author's Note:**

> SO, ANYBODY ELSE WANNA SEE HOW THE BALL TURNS OUT?  
> BECAUSE NOW I REALLY WANNA SEE HOW THE BALL TURNS OUT.


End file.
